All

by Joshua Tilling

To the ones that move 
as I move, 
I think you are wrong. The streets silence in my name, stars disappear behind the grand façade, moss falls from the tree, but still, continually I tell you straight - eye to eye - you're wrong. Cry; cry to 
my face - whine through
 your words, 
I wish to hear your plea. Ah, make me laugh, make me smile, make my head tilt - humor me. Have no idea why you are wrong, please, the better. 
For this happened to myself, once in the past, once now. To the ones that move 
as I move, 
I think you are wrong.